The Lion, the Snake, and the Phoenix
by Lady Astyrael
Summary: Lily and Severus have always been best friends, but when Sev nearly calles Lily a Mudblood, their friendship sours-driving Sev toward  *more?* Dark magic and Lily, through unexpected circumstance, toward James Potter.  Lily/Sev/James triangle.  R&R, plz!
1. Chapter One:  Betrayal

_Author's Note: _In this story, each chapter is from a different character's point of view, which will be listed after the chapter title. As of now, it will go in a continuous Severus-James-Lily loop. Enjoy! :)

_•Harry Potter and affiliated Characters copyright JK Rowling. But the storyline is _my_ creation ;)•_

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**Chapter One: ****Betrayal [**_**Severus**_**]**

Steam, glowing a strange blue hue, spiraled up toward the ceiling, making its way toward the windows that stood open a crack. On its way, it softly illuminated the pale face of a young man, who stood contentedly stirring the liquid that produced it. By looking at him, you would notice that he was in the throes of young manhood, in that awkward stage where gangliness is all too common and beauty often eludes some. This particular young man was affected by both. His sallow skin glowed against the spirals of steam, and a hooked nose protruded from an intent face, dark hair hanging limply on either side. Nevertheless, he looked right at home at the edge of the room amongst the other students, waiting until the bell indicated the end of Potions. For now, Severus Snape was content.

"Ten minutes, chaps! Put in the final touches of your Draught, and I will be along shortly to collect your vials." Professor Horace Slughorn peered up from his spectacles, surveying the crowded classroom that was Fifth-year Potions. Each student, both Slytherin and Gryffindor, displayed some degree of concentration on their faces. Smiling, his eyes landed on Lily Evans, her red hair disheveled, and he walked over to her desk. "Ah, Lily, doing well, I see! How is your Draught of Peace coming along?"

She glanced up at him, her startlingly green eyes cutting through the steam-filled room. "As good as it can be, Professor Slughorn." She smiled a little.

"Very well, then!" The pudgy professor nodded approvingly. "Why, you're one of the brightest students I've ever had, my girl!"

At this, Severus's eyes turned toward the gold-and-red-clad Gryffindor, and he frowned slightly. Having heard every word Slughorn had said, he wasn't too happy—considering that Potions was most certainly his best class, yet his professor had eyes only for Lily. Turning his head back to his cauldron, he began stirring it with more fervor than was strictly necessary. He glowered into its depths.

Noticing this, Lily hurriedly added, "I suppose, Professor, but I don't think my potions could ever match Severus's. He's much better than I am." The students' eyes met, and the Slytherin showed a hint of a grateful smile. Blinking surprisedly, Slughorn turned toward the youth.

"Oho! Yes, yes, of course! You two would make a fine team, Miss Evans."

At this, the Slytherins snorted. Slughorn was well-known for promoting, if not inter-house unity, then at least inter-house friendliness. Predictably, this made no difference, as the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin was not easily severed. The opposing sides of the room glared at each other, and Lily and Severus quickly broke eye contact. Suddenly, a voice loudly spoke up from the Gryffindors.

"Nah, you wouldn't pair up with that greaseball, would you Evans? Otherwise, I'd be forced to hex you, and I really don't want to do that. I'd like to keep your pretty face the way it is so I'd get to look at something nice after laying eyes on _Snivellus_ every day." James Potter snickered loudly, and his partner-in-crime, Sirius Black, barked an unpleasant laugh.

Lily's eyes grew cold. "Just because you're a lousy, conceited _git_, Potter, doesn't mean you have to hassle everyone else! Go crash into the Whomping Willow or something-that'll do you just fine! And if we're lucky, maybe you'll end up in the hospital wing for weeks on end so you're out of everyone's hair!" During her tirade, she had whipped her wand out from underneath her cloak, and it was poised underneath the desk, quivering with controlled anger.

Alarmed, Slughorn rushed between the two. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, and if I hear one more word, it's detention for you! You too, Black—I'll hold you as an accomplice. Now, put that away, Evans, we don't want anyone to get hurt. What was that, my girl?"

Lily, who had muttered something rather profane under her breath, quickly straightened up and met her Professor's eyes, unabashed. "Nothing, Professor." Her composure restored, she refused to look at James Potter. Instead, she glanced at Severus and gave a small smile for him. Grudgingly content with her answer, Professor Slughorn checked the time.

"Two minutes, everyone! Bottle 'em up, boys, time's up." Peter Pettigrew and his table partner, Brigand MacEwell, were frantically attempting to improve the appearances of their mixtures—both of which differed very unfortunately from the original recipe, which stated that a silvery vapor should be gently flowing from the cauldron. Peter's Draught of Peace was not a Draught at all; as a matter of fact, he had been brewing the recipe written on the opposite page—a Cleansing Emulsion—by accident, and so, it had turned a deep coral, rather than the gentle blue specified. Joshua had not made this same mistake; however, his potion was emitting purple puffs of smoke and a scent reminiscent of rotten eggs, showing that, during the process, something had gone violently wrong.

As Slughorn walked past, he surreptitiously wrinkled his nose. "Fair try, Mr. Pettigrew, but perhaps you would kindly prepare the assigned potion next time? That would make grading much easier. And, Brigand, try to follow the instructions for once, would you? Powdered _unicorn_ horn is used, rather than _dragon_ horn. And you forgot Valerian root, which is a key ingredient." Continuing on his rounds, he reached the Slytherin side of the room, where he soon forgot his exasperation.

"Wonderful, Severus! Just like it should be…simply marvelous. Well done, lad! Five points to Slytherin, I should think." Across the room, Lily grinned at her friend, to which he replied with a smile of his own.

The bell rang loudly. "All right, class, I'll see you Thursday. Dolohov, I want that essay from you by tomorrow morning, understand? Otherwise it's a visit with your old friend Detention. Same goes for you, Avery! Neither of you need a failing grade, let alone a visit with me. Potter, I saw that! Hand that to me, go on."

Reluctantly, James removed his hand from his pocket, revealing what he had stowed away. Slughorn narrowed his eyes.

"Bobotuber pus, eh? Now, why would we be needing that, I wonder?" Instead of looking guilty, James looked at him and grinned.

"Scientific study, professor! There could be enormous benefits for wizardkind if people just explored the qualities of Bobotubers!"

Slughorn merely sighed. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just don't let me catch you nicking something from my shelves again. Now, shoo, off with you. You'll be late to your next class." Gleefully, he bounded across the room to Sirius, who had stood waiting for him along with his close friend Remus Lupin. Lily scowled, and continued stowing away her supplies.

"Thanks."

Lily jumped and whirled around. "Severus! I thought you'd left! Gosh, Sev, you have to let me know when you're coming up behind me—you're as quiet as a mouse!" She smiled. "But you're welcome." She dropped her voice. "Though I would've done it anyway, mind you. I would've hexed him if Professor Slughorn hadn't been there." Severus grinned broadly in his head, but refused to show it.

"Maybe it's a good thing you didn't. He'd be dead if you'd—wait, did I just imply that would be a bad thing? Potter dead. Hmmm…"

"Sev! You know I said that just because I was angry. I don't _really_ want him to crash into the Whomping Willow…and that's just so gruesome, thinking of anyone dying. Even Potter." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Oh. Yeah, gruesome. But what if he were—"

"Sev, seriously! It's not funny—now you're just scaring me. Speaking of which, who are you hanging out with? I mean, _Macnair_? Have you ever even _talked_ to him? I bet he drowns puppies and picks the wings off of butterflies. He's _creepy!"_

The young Slytherin frowned. "Who I'm friends with isn't your business."

Lily frowned in return. "Maybe not. But I'm your best friend, Severus, and I don't think you should be hanging out with them. They're going down a road that isn't going to end up anywhere nice."

Severus narrowed his eyes, angry now. "How do you know? You're just a mmm…" His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened in horror at what he had been about to say.

Lily gave him a look to kill, and her wand hand twitched. Instead of drawing it, though, she said icily, "_That's _how I know." With anger and enormous hurt in her eyes, she gathered her things and swept out of the room without a backward glance, leaving a heavy silence clouding behind her.

Severus's throat was clogged, and he stared after her, full of terrible guilt and self-hatred. He stood there, still, even when she was long gone—and after what seemed like forever, Severus managed to whisper a sad "I'm sorry…." And, at Slughorn's impatient prompting, he, too, gathered his things.

He wiped a single tear from his Potions book before leaving the room.


	2. Chapter Two:  Losses

_Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter. But maybe I can abduct JK Rowling, grind her up, and bathe in her blood to absorb her essence and channel her literary genius. **We shall see. **_****:D****

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****Chapter Two: Losses ****[**_**James**_**]****

Laughing and talking echoed down the corridors, interspersed with shouts of glee and excitement, as students of all years traipsed to the doors of the Great Hall. Everyone was making his way down to the Quidditch pitch, all eager to see the explosive deciding game between long-time rivals Gryffindor and Slytherin. James Potter and his teammates had already long gone, and they were now gathered in the changing rooms, tense and eager for the match to start. James gripped his Cobalt Series Three, feeling the polished wood beneath his fingers. It quivered with life, reacting to his familiar touch, and it energized him. He grinned.

"McNighte, make sure you hit Dowerly with a bludger, eh? Give 'im a broken wrist or two. Make my job a bit easier."

Roger McNighte shot him a rueful grin. "I'll try, but I'm not sure how he's flying today. You know how he is, Potter—quick as dragon, he is, and the temper of one, too. And he's unpredictable. Nimble, but stupid."

"Exactly," piped up a voice from across the room. "He's got agility, but doesn't know what to do with it. We'll just aim those bludgers in behind his broom—guarantee he'll dodge it, thinking it's coming for his head. He'll run right into it!" Fabian Fogarty, the second beater, slipped on his gold-and-burgundy Quidditch robes, making sure to adjust the sleeves so they'd show off his toned arms. "And, anyway, Potter, you're the best bloody seeker there is. That slimy bugger couldn't spot the Snitch if it fluttered right in front of his nose, yes?"

"Ah, true." James ruffled his already-mussed-up-hair, which he often did. "And Shannon, Oliver? Try not to drop the quaffle, you guys." Both boys promptly made outraged faces at their Seeker.

"Hold it, hold it—is this doubt we hear?" Shannon cried.

Oliver made an equally hurt expression. "We don't drop anything. Ever." He then waggled his eyebrows. "Well, except for not-so-little somethin'-somethings—"

"—but we won't get into our personal lives." Shannon finished.

"True that, brother." Oliver grinned at his fellow chaser, and they promptly bumped knuckles.

"Guys, this isn't the time _or_ place. Seriously—we can't afford to get sidetracked! Slytherin is out there, raring to go and kick our butts, and you know they're not going to play clean! We have to stay focused." The Gryffindor keeper, Tenzin Mavericke, glowered at his unruly team. "C'mon team, gather round. Pregame pump-up."

"Did I just hear pregame pump-up?" Sandra Berkley strode into the room, a thin third-year with a mischievous smile. Her robes billowed out from behind her, glinting in the sun that momentarily flooded the room as she entered.

"Just in time! Conditions?"

"Sunny, cloudless, but a strong wind—30 miles an hour, I'd say. Buck up, boys, we're in for a ride."

Tenzin smiled at his final chaser. "Thanks, San. You heard her, team, we've got some wind. Beaters, make sure you work with the wind, not against it—use it to your advantage. Chasers, we want to fly out of the sun as much as possible. It'll give them some sight issues, which are always welcome. And don't be afraid to fight fire with fire. If—" He frowned. "Ahem, _when _they play dirty, still try not to play _too_ unfairly, unless the situation calls for it. But remember, even though we're gallant Gryffindors, we're never afraid to fight without mercy. Am I right?"

The team cheered, with Oliver and Shannon throwing in some gigantic whoops that almost drowned out the noise of the crowd outside.

"Hey, Zinny? I think that's the warning whistle." James pointed to the thin door of the changing rooms. Tenzin checked his watch.

"Right, then. Just play hard, team, and show those Slytherin snakes that they can go crawl back into whatever foul hole they came from. Let's go!"

With hurrahs and war cries, the Gryffindor Quidditch team piled out of the changing room and tramped onto the field, eager to beat their rivals. The Slytherins were already there, standing and leering cockily. One Slytherin, a beater James didn't know the name of, drew his finger across his neck. "You're gonna die," he mouthed, smirking. James gripped his broom handle harder, biting his tongue—but only after Tenzin stepped on his foot, shaking his head warningly.

"Captains, shake hands!" called the referee, a short, stout woman who looked like she had never held a quaffle in her life. "Now, I want _no_ foul play—" she stared pointedly at the Slytherins, "and I expect this to be a sportsmanlike game, no trouble. Understand?" Both teams nodded their heads a fraction of an inch, no more, holding each other's eyes. Begrudgingly accepting their slight acknowledgement, the referee stepped back with the Quidditch chest at her feet. "Right then, take your places."

Immediately, the two teams took to the skies, creating an airborne circle around the center of the field. She opened the chest, released the bludgers and the Snitch, and gripped the quaffle in her hands. "On my mark! Three, two, one—" Up went the quaffle…

And the game began.

A frenzy of activity ensued. The chasers of both teams converged in on the quaffle, dodging and grasping, all while attempting to elude the wrath of the bludgers that had hurled toward the swarm. Frantically, the beaters flailed their bats at the balls, hitting them away from their teammates, and both seekers sped over the activity to scan for the Snitch. James flew upwards, looking for the telltale glint that would give away the Snitch's position. Glancing to his right, he noticed his opposite, Johnny Dowerly, doing the same. Below them both, the game was going well for Gryffindor. Within the first ten minutes of play, his team had scored two goals—Oliver with a nice, straight shot through the 40-foot hoop and Sandra executing a particularly spectacular dodge-and-roll while throwing the quaffle. James grinned, and he continued to fly around the pitch, still searching for the Snitch. Eyebrows knitted together in concentration, he didn't notice that he had drifted among the rest of the players, and it wasn't until a bludger had gone whistling past his ear that he became completely aware. As a reflex, he rolled sideways and swung himself back on his broom handle, breathing heavily with adrenaline. Glancing upwards to see who had hit it, he saw a Slytherin beater smirking, talking quickly into the ear of his partner. He curtly nodded, and they separated.

Suspicious, James decided to be on his guard even more, knowing they were planning something fairly nasty. He instantly shot upwards above the fray, scanning for the Slytherin beaters and the Snitch, but cheers from the crowd drew his attention. Looking, he saw that Gryffindor had scored yet another goal on the Slytherin keeper. This time, it was Shannon and Oliver zig-zagging the Quaffle between them. When the Slytherin chasers were adequately scattered and confused, Shannon had successfully scored, and he was currently punching the air in victory (James could've sworn he heard a whoop). The scoreboard showed 60—0 to Gryffindor, which meant that Tenzin was doing a phenomenal job blocking Slytherin's attempts at scoring, and it didn't look like any bludger-inflicted injuries had thinned his team. Good. Fabian and Roger were doing their jobs—

But apparently not well enough. James saw a rogue bludger nick Sandra's upper arm, and she momentarily swerved, causing her to drop the quaffle into Slytherin's possession. Tenzin was angrily yelling at Fabian, who had forgotten his duty seemingly because a Slytherin chaser had contacted his broomstick. With a look to kill, he waved his bat threateningly at his attacker, giving a clear warning. Then he turned around and flew off. James scowled, angry but unsurprised. He resumed searching, always searching…

Then, out of the corner of his eye, a glint flickered. It had lasted a mere fraction of a second, but it was enough. Determination replacing anger, James whistled toward the area it had come from, and with a practiced eye, he spotted it fluttering about 25 feet from the Slytherin goalposts.

The only trouble was that Dowerly saw it, too.

Clenching his teeth, James leaned forward, urging the utmost speed out of his broomstick in order to grab it before his opponent did. Then, out of nowhere, came a _fwhoom, fwhoom CRACK! _Simultaneously, he felt an agonizing pain in his ankle, and his broom began spinning out of control. He desperately clung to Cobalt Series Three, willing it to straighten. Somehow, he knew this was what the Slytherin beaters had planned. That the crack he heard was a bludger contacting the end of his broom. That another bludger had hit his ankle, which he was sure was broken.

And at the point he had almost regained control, with his eyes squinted in pain, he saw Dowerly, grinning with malice, speeding toward him. James attempted to swerve, but his broomstick's agility was compromised by its damage, and he only succeeded in moving a few feet upwards. Helplessly, he hung in the air, and Dowerly collided with his side, wrenching his hands off the handle. With his ankle useless for gripping in place of his hands, James Potter tipped, tipped, and fell, fell, fell…

• • •

"Bloody hell…that was unbelievable, mate. I swear, when I get my hands on him, I'll wring his bloody neck so hard that his slimy eyeballs will pop out of his skull, and he'll beg so loudly for mercy that his mummy all the way in Trenton will hear him…" Oliver clenched his fists and mimed twisting something very hard, hissing under his breath.

"You could do the Cruciatus curse. Or just go the whole nine yards and Avada Kedavra him—that would work, too." Shannon was equally infuriated, and he skulked around James's bedside, unable to stop moving. His wand was in his hand, and it periodically emitted sparks as his emotions spiked. He didn't bother to try and control it. Oliver grinned maniacally at his words.

"Yeah. I'll bet he tortures first-years all the time—give 'im a taste of his own medicine. Give 'im a taste o' Crucio, and _then_ I'll wring his neck. I'll make him sprout boils all over for good measure, hex him with a full body-bind, and shove him in a closet that no one uses."

"That's it, mate. But that aside, what they did was illegal! You can't hit bludgers toward a player with the intention to injure, and they shot two at the same bloody time. Let's not even mention the fact that you can't lay a hand on anyone, but of course Dowerly shoved you right off your broomstick, Potter! And he had the gall to say he lost his balance…I mean, how do you lose balance on a broomstick?"

James cracked a swollen eye open a slit and grimaced. "He got away with it?"

Sandra glowered into the air. "He sure did. Acted right stupid to weasel out of it, too. Somehow, I am going to make his life miserable…"

"But their beaters got fouled for their bludgers—there was no way you could miss that. We got three penalty shots on them because of it. But it still bites, it _really _bites_._"

James grimaced. "I can't believe it…we lost…"

"Glad to see you're awake, Potter." Tenzin strolled into the hospital wing, hands in his pockets. James could tell he was gripping his wand, and he looked frazzled and very angry. Zinny kicked the garbage can. "Just came back from damage control. Stennings—you know, the Slytherin captain?— he was laying it on thick. Claimed we cheated, used strengthening spells, agility charms, even Felix Felicis. Guess he was mad that we scored so many goals on them…trying to add punishment to public humiliation, I suppose, which I'm not surprised about. I had to do some serious convincing and arguing to get out of a complete team ban next year."

"A complete team ban? You've got to be kidding." Shannon's eyebrows were raised, almost disappearing into his forehead. "How could they believe Slytherin? Everyone knows they're compulsive liars."

"The captain's dad gave money to the school, got in good with the staff. How can you compete with that? Money talks, guys, and Slytherin is no exception." He sat down heavily onto the empty bed next to James's, putting his head into his hands. "I'm done. I'm going to bed—maybe this will all turn out to be some bad dream, and that we actually creamed Slytherin and won the Cup. 'Night." He trudged away, leaving his distraught team gathered around their Seeker's bed, murmuring good nights. A red head emerging from the doorway interrupted their commiserating.

"James, Professor McGonagall sent me to give you your Transfiguration homework. She says you've been absent from her class too long due to injuries, and that she wants you to 'complete your work from your sickbed.' Here." Lily Evans plopped a pile of papers on his nightstand, purposefully avoiding his eyes. She was still simmering from his jab at her ex-friend, though she didn't quite know why.

James grinned cockily. "Or…you really came here to tell me how worried you were when I fell from my broom, and that you had to come and see me as soon as possible, yes? A declaration of love can come at any time."

Lily met his eyes steadily. "More like a declaration of intense dislike. Keep your pick-up lines to yourself, and say them to someone who cares." With that, she stalked away, disappearing around the corner.

"Pity, mate. You tried." Oliver shrugged. "Better luck next time. You know what she's doing? She's playing hard-to-get. She'll come around. Eventually."

"How _couldn't_ she give in to my dashing good looks and incessant charm? I'm perfect for Evans—she just doesn't know it, yet." James smiled. "Go on, guys, get some sleep. I'll be fine. Try not to worry about me too much."

Sandra rolled her eyes. "Don't push the pity, Potter. Now shut up and take your medicine, or Pomfrey will have all our heads." She gave him a last friendly grin before disappearing around the corner.


	3. Chapter Three:  Unpleasant Surprises

**I don't own Harry Potter.**

But I do own my embarrassingly fangirly squeals when Draco comes into the scene.

I own my tears when Dumbledore died and we finally saw Snape's memories in the end.

I own my disappointment at the epilogue.

And I own the comfort and familiarity the series affords me as my go-to rainy-day reads.

**So...Onward!**

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**Chapter Three: Unpleasant Surprises [**_**Lily**_**]**

The next day dawned cool and windy, promising a storm later that evening. Clouds, dark and grey, were rolling in quite fast, and the sun was quickly disappearing. By midday, the world was in a perpetual twilight. Inside, the lamps were being lit, and students anxiously hurried through the halls, eager to get away from the windows.

Lily Evans, however, wasn't worried, and she strolled leisurely down the corridor. It was a free period, so she could afford to take her time, but it was a while before she noticed footsteps echoing behind her. She got the sense that someone was intentionally following her—but not bothering to hide it. She turned sharply around, narrowing her eyes at her follower. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Lucius Malfoy sneered. "If it isn't little Lily Evans, poster girl for…muggleborns." His lip curled at the word. "Funny meeting you here. Shouldn't you be up with your other little friends studying? Perhaps…talking to people you shouldn't?" His voice took on a sharp, dangerous edge that replaced the usual superior tone he used.

Lily scowled. "Is there a threat somewhere in there? Sorry, I didn't catch it. Get lost Lucius, or I'll hex you."

A low laugh lacking any traces of warmth emitted from his lips. "Oh, don't play with me, Evans. You wouldn't dare do such a thing. What are you—top of your year? _Imagine _ what that would do to your record…and neither of us wants to face the wrath of Dippet." It was a statement that was tinged with warning, and Lily scowled. Lucius continued in his drawling voice. "And I don't think you'd want to face my wrath, either, Evans. Your actions are, regrettably, punishable by Slytherin's superior standards." He smirked. _"Not_ that you're meeting them already, of course."

Lucius sauntered over to Lily's thin form, his taunting causing her temper to become as flaming as her famous hair. Coolly, he reached out his hand, lifting a fingerful of strands as if inspecting her, if somewhat disdainfully. Inside, Lucius sighed. Pity. Were she a Slytherin, he'd most certainly date her—it was true she was fairly attractive, and he rather enjoyed her angry spark. But, alas, she just wasn't his type.

Lily slapped his hand away forcefully. "I don't know what you're talking about, so why don't you go and make other girls cringe? You're so pathetic—do you find you're too intimidated by people your own age? Or is it because they've already figured out you're not a threat?"

His face contorted in indignation. "Don't push me, _Mudblood_. I know types of magic that they don't dare teach you—things that even _you_ wouldn't mess with." He whipped out his wand. "And I have a little warning for you." Malevolently, he none-too-gently snatched the collar of her robes and whispered into her ear. "I know what's going on between you and Severus Snape, and I'm not about to let some filthy goody-goody Gryffindor soil the name of Slytherin. Got it?"

Realizing he was grasping Lily's collar, Lucius hurriedly snatched his hand away with mild disgust. Resuming his superior, sneering demeanor, he hissed in her ear, _"Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix._ If you don't learn that quick, Evans, something just might…" He pressed his wand tip to the nape of her neck. "_happen_."

The wand tip started to burn, and Lily began to feel a slight, burning pressure on her neck. As she was about to cry out, Lucius removed the wand to leave behind an angry red mark, and he swept away as quickly as he came. Lily began shaking, from fear, surprise, or whatever else—she didn't know. Tempted though she was to curse him while he was walking away, she knew it wouldn't befit a Gryffindor. More than that, though, was the fact that Malfoy was older than her, and she had had more than a hint of his dabbling in the Dark Arts. She knew he meant what he said, and it shook her nerves a little.

Suddenly, a thought came to her. If this was all he did to her—what did he do to Severus? She pursed her lips and shook away her pity. Whatever Malfoy did to him he certainly deserved—and maybe it would show him Lily was right all along. Unconsciously, she touched the mark with her fingers, feeling its unnatural warmth. Why on earth did this happen? Of course, Lucius didn't know about the shattering of their friendship from the day before, which was why he seemed so angry. He still thought she and Sev were friends—apparently, he thought they were more than that.

She scowled again, in anger. Well, now he had nothing to worry about.

•••

"Lily! Look at the clouds! Oh, no, it's gonna be a huge storm…oh no oh no oh no…"

"Lora, calm down! I told you before, we'll be fine. Hogwarts isn't made of parchment and feathers, you know." Lily glanced back at her horrorstruck friend, Lorraine, who had an unfortunate fear of storms. And spiders. And snakes…and pretty much everything else, which made Lily wonder sometimes why Lora had been sorted into Gryffindor. She was a little irritated, because Lora had been going on like this for fifteen minutes, with Lily always having to calm her down. Vaguely, she thought of what she and Sev would have been doing—probably laughing and daring each other to go outside—but then her memory kicked in. She would never forget that. Never. She trusted him, and he betrayed her, no matter how sorry he was about it. Severus Snape was just a greasy, traitorous, good-for-nothing louse who—

"Miss Evans!" A voice penetrated the red haze of her thoughts—goodness, what an angry day—and she sharply looked up. Aways ahead of her strode a tall, intimidating teacher with a stern, penetrating gaze. "Miss Evans, I've been looking for you."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall? I did deliver the papers like you asked—"

"No, no, I know you did. I've just been up to see Potter." Lily's eyes darkened a little, and she impatiently awaited what was to be said next. The professor did not notice her change of demeanor.

"As you know, he will be missing my class for a while, but he will still have to complete his work. However, he requests a tutor to teach him as I do, so he fully masters the material to my standards." McGonagall looked at her expectantly. Lily felt a hunch, but she was not willing to acknowledge it.

"Professor, I don't believe I understand…"

"I apologize, Miss Evans—I have not made myself clear. He requests _you_ to be his tutor, and I have nothing against it; you are a bright student, and responsible. I have no doubt you will do a wonderful job of conveying my concepts."

Lily stared, unbelieving. _Her? _Teaching Potter? That cocky, ungrateful, show-offy—

"Yes, Professor," Lily found herself numbly saying. She barely heard what was said next—her Transfiguration teacher's words of delight, when she was to tutor him. Her brain was still comprehending "requests you to be his tutor." How unthinkable. How horrid. Oh, _why_ did she have to be the one James Potter had his eye on? She wanted nothing to do with him! Lily stood in that spot long after McGonagall had clicked away, silent, contemplating what on earth she had done to deserve this. She'd rather kiss Severus.

Why did that seem appealing?

_Oh, stop it!_ Lily scowled to herself. Lorraine found enough pause in her hyperventilating to ask what was wrong.

"Uh, Lily? Are you all right?" She peered around her friend's shoulder, her round eyes a little wider in worry. "You're awfully quiet." Apparently, Lorraine had been too preoccupied with her fear of the oncoming storm that she had not paid attention, which explained why she was so slow on the uptake.

Lily felt Lora's comforting hand, and for once was glad she was following her. It deadened the horror a little. "I'm…tutoring someone." She didn't know why she was keeping James a secret. She knew that Lorraine would freak out like she had, which would make Lily feel a bit better, but it seemed really personal for some unfathomable reason.

"Tutoring? Well, it can't be that bad! You like teaching people!"

Lily managed to smile a little. "It's a…special case, and it's going to be difficult. I hope I can get through it."

Lora grinned. "You're always up to a challenge, Lily. You can do it!" As she looked upwards, she caught sight of the giant clock that hung on the wall. "Oh, no! Lil, I'm going to be late! I have to be at Dumbledore's class in a minute—I have to go!" Horrified, she scurried away, the storm temporarily forgotten. Lily was left standing in the middle of the corridor.

Sighing, she checked her schedule, crossing out "Free Period" and re-writing, "Tutoring."

Wait. _This _washer free hour.

It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter Four: Through the Invisible Door

**Unfortunately, I am not JK Rowling, and, therefore, lay no claim to the wonder that is Harry Potter.** As such, please hold the applause when you see another chapter up, as I am undeserving of such praise. But dropping to the floor and bowing to me—nay, even simply inclining your head reverently—shall suffice. ;)

So, at loooong last, another segment is IN! Actually, I reworded this one and reworked it to make it sound better. I know, I know, I hear that you're groaning. But fear not, loyal readers! I have finished with the next chapter, and it shall be up momentarily!

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**Chapter Four: Through the Invisible Door [**_**Severus**_**] **

Severus hurried through the throngs of students, his cloak billowing behind him as he attempted to forge a path without really meeting anyone's eyes. He clutched his books in his hands, balancing his ink and scales atop a precarious tower of books that were required for this year's Herbology class, and for the hundredth time he wished that his rucksack hadn't ripped. It was a secondhand one that looked a century old, but he'd had to use it because his mother couldn't afford to buy one brand-new. He knew people were sniggering at him behind his back, but he forced himself to keep walking—even though he could hex them faster than they could even_ think _about casting a counterspell. People bustled everywhere, and he was concentrating so hard on making sure the pile didn't tip that at first he failed to notice the person walking beside him. He could hear the walking stick make a steady _thud, thud, thud _on the floor. He glanced up.

"Hey Severus. Need a hand?" Lucius looked down at him with a slight smile, almost kind.

Severus shook his head. "Nah, I got it. I'm almost there, anyway. I just have to get out of this bloody hallway."

Malfoy laughed. "Aw, c'mon, Sev. Accept some help once and a while; don't let your pride get in the way." He snickered at this, finding humor in the irony. His face turned grave. "Actually, Severus, I wanted to talk to you about something—a small matter of, ah, _pride."_

The boy noticed his friend's tone of voice and sharply looked up, causing some of his books to drop with loud clunks. Laughs echoed behind him, and, cheeks flaming, Severus bent down to pick them up.

Lucius, however, beat him to it. They both crouched down, but, as Severus grabbed hold of the book Lucius handed him, the elder boy refused to let it go. Malfoy's voice dropped to a low hiss, tainted with warning.

"Listen closely, and listen well, my friend. You're a fifth-year, so I would've hoped that you had learned the true meaning of being in the noble house of Slytherin by now." He narrowed his eyes to slits. "But you _haven't_. Gryffindors are scum on the bottoms of our feet, and yet you go running around with one! _You're committing treason against your own House, Snape!_

His voice had risen to a furious crescendo, and students that were standing close to the pair cocked their ears in curiosity. Lucius immediately dropped his voice.

"Make some changes, or you just might get your recompense, Severus. _Remember it._ I may like you, but my loyalty is to my House. Yours better be as well_._" His hand suddenly released the book, and Snape toppled backwards. Lucius stood, a disdainful expression on his face, and he turned on his heel, his robes swirling arrogantly behind him.

Severus sat there for a moment in bewilderment, angrily absorbing his elder's words. Snickering came from two Gryffindors that were standing behind him, and without warning, Snape whirled around. "_Incarcerous_!" Immediately, the two students were bound with ropes that snaked around their bodies, and Severus grinned maliciously. "_Levicorpus!" _They immediately flew into the air, hanging seemingly by their ankles.

"Don't you _ever_ mess with me again, _Gryffindors,_" he said with a snarl, "or something just might _slip_ into your food." Their eyes widened, bringing Severus a hint of pleasure. They knew of his exceptional prowess in Potions, and what he could do was left to their overactive imaginations—which he certainly had no objection to. One thing Lucius had taught him back in second year was that sometimes silence frightened more people into submission than force.

He smiled without humor. Ah, it did feel nice to take control again, to channel his emotions into something productive. To forget.

Swiftly, he turned away from the hanging pair, the only sounds the soft treads of his shoes and the muffled yelps of the Gryffindors. Before he made to round a corner, out of sight, he turned to look back. They were struggling to loosen their bonds, which would only prove futile. Even if they succeeded, only Severus knew the counterspell to _levicorpus_—a brilliant invention of his—and he wasn't planning to tell the gits any time soon.

But then Lily's face swam into his head. She was always so kind, so empathetic, so strong-willed. He could imagine her reaction to his actions: _Severus!_ she would say, _How could you do such a thing? Just ignore them, Sev—they didn't do anything!_

So? They were Gryffindors who laughed at him behind his back—they had to pay _somehow_. Lily never could understand the Slytherin creed; she never could understand the fact that punishing your enemy was a natural response to wrongdoing. Chivalry wasn't in the nature of a Slytherin. To a Slytherin, it was weakness.

But she would be appalled, probably, and more than a bit upset. But she hated him now, so her opinions—real or otherwise—didn't matter anymore. _She_ didn't matter anymore.

But she did. Oh, but she _did_. But she would never forgive him, just like he didn't think he could ever forgive himself. He'd never seen her that angry, or that hurt, than back in that potions room. They used to be so close, best friends since they were little.

Then, only a few years ago, it seemed like they had begun drifting apart. They didn't understand each other as well anymore. Lily refused to acknowledge that what he and the rest of his gang of friends—and Slytherin in general—believed in was a good thing, and he couldn't understand how Gryffindor's do-gooder attitude would further the progress of the wizarding world. Their ideas of how to do things even clashed—He believed the ends justified the means; she believed it was the journey that counted. What happened in Potions was more than the usual fight, the typical argument between friends. Severus felt like it was the breaking point that had careened them onto separate paths forever.

And, because of this, he tried to block her out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that it was over, that it was time to move on, that she would never even look at him again.

That it didn't hurt at all.

So who cared anymore? He had only narrowly controlled his anger and tried to give up the classic Slytherin cruelty for _her_—it was for Lily that Severus had rejected his family's nature and Salazar's expectations. Now that she was gone, he would rid himself of any memory of her, any warm feeling, anything at all, because what he did was irreparable. Not to mention the fact that he now had no choice—there was no way he could go up against Lucius. Yet, anyway.

So as he turned and left the Gryffindors hanging in the corridor, Severus Snape changed—by walking away, he unwittingly stepped through an invisible door that altered his soul. And for a few footsteps, it began to close, intending to shut solidly on Severus's future and character permanently.

But as it closed, it was caught by a breath of wind, and it did not shut. At the last second, a breath of force stopped it from closing—a breath of humanity.

The two Gryffindors dropped to the floor, free and unbound.


	5. Chapter Five:  Progress

**I do not own Harry Potter,** though if I did, I would currently be sitting in a million-dollar mansion donning Chanel and Dolce & Gabanna with a hot butler serving me some pricey high-end wine that's ridiculously expensive while opera softly plays through my hidden speakers that share space with video cameras and lasers for the intense moments.

However, I _do_ own a wand.

And that, my friends, is priceless.

_(Might I mention that it's ebony? 15 ¼ inches? With a phoenix feather core? Fellow Potterheads, I'm sure you understand why I find this so awesome…you know, I'd actually like to film a fake duel or battle with a bunch of people pretending to wizards and add awesome effects later. Hmmm….too corny?)_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Progress [<strong>**_James_****]**

James lay back on his hospital bed, boredly fooling around with the Snitch he had nicked from the Quidditch storehouse. Letting it go, he snatched it out of the air before it could fly too far, always at the last second, over and over again—which was becoming very tiring. What was the point of his incredible agility if no one was there to admire it? He hated being laid up with broken limbs and bruised ribs and head traumas. Not that he _had_ head trauma—but he might as well have. A long cut graced the side of his head, caused from the nasty landing and a small (but very sharp) rock, and it pounded unpleasantly in time with his heartbeat.

Currently, he was alone, like most of the time he'd been up here. Remus had come once or twice, but he had been so busy with Prefect duties that he hardly found the time. Sirius had come visiting several times—that is, before Pomfrey banned him from the hospital wing when he "accidentally" set off a bunch of Dr. Fillibuster's Fireworks. Filch had been furious, James recalled with a grin. Sirius was dragged out by the ears, yelping all the way—though that hadn't prevented him from giving James a big wink before his final exit. That left only Wormtail, who came once in a while, but always with someone else. He didn't like to be alone, which James figured would someday get him into trouble.

Suddenly jerked out of his reverie by a pair of clicking heels, he quickly stashed the Snitch in the pocket of his robes as Madame Pomfrey came walking past his bed, tut-tutting at James' apparent lack of thirst for his daily tonic.

She frowned, displeased. "Mr. Potter, you have been up in my wing far too many times to count, and yet you still take your tonics as if they'll be the death of you!" Snatching the cup from the table beside his bed, Pomfrey placed it into his hands. "Go on, drink it! The more you keep up with them, the faster you'll be out of here." Folding her arms across her sizeable bosom, she waited until he was finished, and James grimaced. It smelled like bat liver—and tasted about the same.

He handed it back to her, and she nodded in a satisfied way. "Good, then. I expect you'll be healthy enough to leave in half a week's time, no longer." Her heels click-clacked away.

Letting out a breath, James sank back into his pillows and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the hospital wing—which mainly consisted of Pomfrey curtly issuing orders. He didn't feel sorry for the people under _her _charge; now she was going off about some spilled tonics.

"Miranda, what have I said about these potions? They're very reactive, and any sudden movements in their vials will—" There was a violent explosion, followed by Pomfrey's cry. "Oh, now you've gone and done it! Go, get some of the Magical Mess Remover and some of that magenta emulsion we keep in the back of the supply closet—that should do the trick. Oh, not another one. What ailment do you have, girl?"

Now it sounded like she was speaking to someone else, and James' heart gave a little leap as a familiar voice drifted across the room.

"I'm not sick, Madame Pomfrey. I'm here to tutor James—Professor McGonagall's orders."

James slit open his eyes a little, watching the red-haired wonder hand the head nurse a note. She narrowed her eyes and handed it back. "Very well, then. No excessive noise, young lady. You and Potter aren't the only ones up here, remember." He chuckled inside. Pomfrey certainly didn't pick favorites, no matter how charming. He, himself, was a living example.

Lily turned and made her way to his bedside, holding several pieces of parchment in her hands and a thick transfiguration book. She eyed him coolly. "Come on, Potter. I know you're awake. The faster we get this finished, the faster I can be out of here." She sounded like the head nurse in one of her moods.

James opened his eyes fully, now, giving a wry smile. "Then maybe I should stall a bit more." He loved it when Evans was annoyed.

She narrowed her eyes and chose to ignore his comment. "McGonagall assigned an essay on the properties of Cross-species Transfiguration—the basic theory and the possible consequences of mistakes. We also have to explain how the execution and theory differs from Same-species and why. It's supposed to be 30 inches, so you'd better get started."

With an indifferent toss, the book landed squarely in his lap. James looked at the title: _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration._ How exciting.

He shook his head. "We've been reading out of the book for months! When are we going to do anything _practical?_ " James had never been a fan of book learning—he was more of a hands-on kind of person, and he'd rather _practice_ transfiguration than read about it.

Lily shrugged, unsympathetic. "What do expect? It's fifth year, Potter. We have to learn the theory before the physical application in order to get it right, because everything's more complicated. This isn't exactly _wingardium leviosa." _Pointing at the book, she continued. "It's all in chapter eleven, around page 240. That's where it talks about Cross-species Transfiguration, and I think Same-species is page 110. It's long, so why don't you get started?" There was an annoyed undercurrent to her voice, like she really didn't want to be there. James stared at her.

"What did I ever do to you, Evans? I don't really get why you hate me so much." He frowned, genuinely puzzled. He couldn't think of when he had done anything to anger her, nor could he find a reason why anyone would dislike him.

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, Potter, I don't know. Maybe because you're such a lousy, stuck-up _git?_ Always showing off your Quidditch skills in front of crowds of swooning girls and humiliating people who don't meet your standards. Yeah, that's really excellent. Look, I don't care how handsome you are, or how smart you are, or how good you are at Quidditch. _I don't like you._"

At first he grinned at the handsome part. And the smart part…and the "good at Quidditch" part. But when the insulting intent of her words hit him, James raised his eyebrows in a show of injured pride. "I do not 'show off!' I simply enjoy pastimes that always seem to happen in front of people."

So what if that was only a little true? He wasn't going to admit that to Evans—it would make him look bad. "And I don't humiliate people…who don't deserve it, anyway."

Lily's eyes narrowed. "So Severus 'deserves it?' You don't understand what he goes through every day, not even counting _you_!"

James let out a derisive laugh. "Listen, I don't know what _you_ hear, but from my end, Snape is a good-for-nothing louse who skulks around dreaming up new ways to curse people. Merlin's beard, Evans—he's a Slytherin, for crying out loud! I'll bet he knows more hexes than Bellatrix Black when she graduated."

"That's not true!" Lily breathed, incensed.

Or was it? She knew that Sev was brilliant at Potions, and rather good at Defense against the Dark Arts, but the people he hung out with _were_ rather…questionable. She knew that they did awful things, but never would she believe that Severus would actually—

She cleared her throat, intending to jab at James even more. "I'd get to know someone before judging them, Potter. You'd be surprised how many times you're wrong."

James looked straight at her, into her green, green eyes, and coolly replied, "Maybe you should take your _own _advice."

Lily stiffened and nearly choked, realizing how hypocritical she sounded. Stupid! And why was she even bothering to defend Severus? He deserved every nasty comment he got. Opening her mouth, she realized she had no reply and closed it again, and she bit her lip out of frustration. How could she have allowed herself to get trapped by her own words? "I—well, I—" She frowned. "It's different…"

Her voice trailed off as she caught James's expression, and she unexpectedly felt a tiny twang of regret. After a few moments of intensely uncomfortable silence, Lily handed him the parchment and the feather quill without reply. She cleared her throat to break the quiet. "Ahem. So…the essay. Well, the essay takes a while. I'll teach you what we learned in class so you can write it."

James raised an eyebrow and gave a wry smile. Progress? He thought so.


	6. Chapter Six: Darkness Rising

Yes, it's been, like, two years, I know, I know :( I just haven't been writing due to an extensive list of things going on and a neverending stream of activities, schoolwork, and college acceptance/application/scholarship stuff. Ah, the joys of being a senior... _

Anyway, I'm sorry for the year off, it wasn't planned, otherwise I would've warned you. So here's another chapter, FINALLY! :D

**Oh, and I have no rights to Harry Potter. Or maybe Parry ****_Hotter_****? ;) **Haha, actually no, I don't think Daniel Radcliff's attractive. Sorry, guys. I'm more partial to Tom Felton :D Yummy. Or Deryl from _The Walking Dead_, but that's a whole other story for later...

Alrighty, enough rambling. Here you go! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Darkness Rising [<strong>**_Lily_****]**

Lily swept out of the hospital wing as the bell rang, too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice that she had turned down the wrong corridor. Two sides of her were warring against each other: one that refused to give in to Potter's charms, and one that was starting to covertly peek in his direction. Her pride wouldn't permit her to admit any kind of defeat, and allowing herself to even _consider_ being Potter's friend went against everything she had ever worked for. So here she was, stuck in the middle and, for once in her life, unsure of herself.

But now that Snape was out of the picture, was the cause worth it anymore? All the years she had spent defending him from Potter's taunts had caused her to acquire a natural and inherent hatred of him. She still disliked his blatant show-offyness, but it was made clear to her up there that he was actually a hard worker—he took to the essay quite easily. And he could be nice when he wanted to.

Still, she didn't like him. He was proud, a ladies' man, and he had a bunch of fangirls who followed him and his posse everywhere. And that Sirius Black! Black and Potter, how wonderful they were, how funny, how smart, how _charming_—the list went on and on. She refused to hear any of it.

"Oooooooh, lookee here! An ickle fifth year going where she isn't supposed to! Peevsie ought to get Mister Filch, shouldn't he?"

Lily looked up sharply, automatically flinging her arm over her head as she saw Peeves, the school poltergeist, zooming above her. He cackled delightfully.

"Is it Liiiily Eeevans? Ooooh, breaking the rules, are we? Little Miss Evans isn't so smart— " He dive-bombed her, blowing a loud raspberry and dropping chalk dust down the back of her neck as he did so, "—walking down hallways in the darkie-dark-dark! Is your skin itching for more, ickle fifth-year? Spells not enough, theories too brain-cluttering?"

Lily looked up, proceeding carefully—as one wrong word could send Peeves hollering for Filch. "Peeves, what exactly do you mean? I'm only in the Charms corri—corridor—" Her voice broke off as she took in her surroundings. This was most certainly not the Charms corridor…

Peeves grinned impishly. "Oooh, smarty-pants doesn't know, does she? Miss know-it-all doesn't know what lies in the dark!" He grinned. "But her ickle boooyfriend dooooes!" He crowed madly, pelting her with bits of chalk and flying away.

Hardly believing what she had just heard, she yelled after Peeves. "Peeves! What's down there? What are you talking about?!"

All she got in reply was a loud raspberry and the tinkle of broken glass as he broke a light. She sighed in frustration. Somewhere along the way, she had taken a wrong turn on the way to class, instead ending up here in—well, just _here._ Lily wasn't exactly sure where she was—somewhere in the dungeons, she was sure, judging by the light layer of damp that covered the walls. She had often been down here for Potions, and occasionally Defense against the Dark Arts when they needed more space, but this section was completely unfamiliar to her.

Cautiously, Lily continued walking down the long passageway, biting her lip. She was going to be in so much trouble for missing class! Not to mention the fact that, if Peeves was telling an ounce of truth, she might even be walking in an off-limits part of the castle. Still, she had to keep moving—sooner or later there would be an entrance to the upper levels, _something_. So she forced her feet to move forward.

The torches along the walls soon grew fewer and farther between, their eerie blue glow gradually fading until the corridor was only bathed in the light from her wand. Lily was frightened, but also intensely curious.

"_Lumos maxima!"_ she whispered, casting a great ball of light into the air that hung over her to illuminate the path ahead. Against her initial instincts, Lily swallowed loudly and continued walking with light, careful treads. Peeves had left her feeling quite interested in what lie ahead, and it felt kind of _exciting _to be breaking the rules!

Still, half of her truly wanted to turn back., and she almost got her excuse. A minute of walking took her to a blank wall of obsidian, contrasting sharply with the dusty grey stone that made up the rest of the castle. It was a solid dead end, and, for a second, it looked as if she had no choice but to turn back.

Lily turned around, a little let down in spite of herself, when a slim light appeared at the end of the corridor. She narrowed her eyes, attempting to make out what it was—a lantern? A torch? A magical orb like her own? But then voices reached her ears, muffled and dampened from the distance, and she gasped in horror. It could be some professors, and there was _no way _she was going to get caught. Quickly, she put her light out (_"nox maxima!_ " she hissed) and darted to the edge of the wall. Inching her way along the stonework, and with the voices creeping ever-nearer, Lily groped for a handle, a wooden door, a large crack—_anything_ to hide herself in. She was nearly panicking with the fear of getting caught when her fingertips touched a metal handle, and she immediately turned it.

But it wouldn't twist. No matter how she prodded it, pulled it, or fiddled with it, it would only rotate halfway—which wasn't enough to open the door. Now her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. The people coming were now distinguishable, and their light was mere inches from reaching her. Only a few more seconds would keep her in shadow—

_There!_ At the very last moment, the handle turned, and she flung herself inside, swinging the wooden door shut behind her. Letting out a deep breath, Lily gave a frightened little giggle. That was way, way too close, and she closed her eyes to calm herself down. As she recovered from her ordeal, her mind organized itself enough to wonder what in the bloody world these people were doing. But, then again, whatever the teachers were up to was certainly not her business, and she had no right to stick her nose in where it didn't belong.

Still…

Cautiously, she opened the door the teensiest crack, peeking out. There were three figures standing at the wall whispering, but she only caught snatches of what they were saying. As they were all turned towards the wall, away from her, Lily strained to identify their voices in the absence of visual identification.

"Come on, you have to do it! Don't be such a jumpy little jackrabbit—"

"—but Riddle said only he could—"

"Nah, we'll be fine, we just need to gain entrance. Gimme your hand."

Shuffling came from the group, and one figure held out his hand to the side. Lily nearly screeched as she saw a flash of scarlet on a silver blade, but she would have been covered by the yelp that emitted from the victim.

"Shut _up!_ Blimey, you'll alert the whole castle if you keep that up!"

"I told you we shouldn't have brought 'im, he's too young—"

"I'm not! I'm in fifth year—"

"—and still not a real Slytherin! You need to prove it, Malfoy said—"

They all started speaking at once in angry whispers, causing their speech to become indistinguishable. No matter—Lily would find out eventually. She now knew that these weren't professors at all. As a matter of fact, this was just a bunch of stupid Slytherin bimbos, probably down to have a good time at King Malfoy's bidding. As soon as they left, Lily would get out of there. Being near a group of Slytherins in a dark hall was _not_ a good idea.

Their whispers soon died back down, the argument presumably sorted out, and a figure stepped forward to the wall. He slid his hand in a complicated pattern, and then backed away.

Lily gulped. Written on the ebony stone in a bright burgundy was a series of strange runes that sank into the wall before she could decipher them.

All of a sudden, it got really cold. Not a dementor-esque, despairing cold; but a dark, chilling cold, almost tinged with the same shade as Dark magic. She shivered, alarmed now. A shadow, blacker than the darkness around her, slid from the stonework, inky and moving with a disturbing fluidity. It snaked toward the three, wrapping around the one who wrote on the wall and disappearing into his chest. The figure started visibly shaking, and he whimpered audibly before nodding his head quickly.

"Yes, yes, I am, I'm committed, I'm committed! I don't—no, I don't! I'm finished with—please don't, I promise I will, I'm one of them—no, I'm not! I'm not a traitor—"

Lily shuddered. The boy seemed to be talking to the—the _thing_ that was inside him, and his voice echoed strongly within the corridor. It was eerily distorted. But before she could do anything, the shadow disappeared back into the wall, and a loud hissing penetrated the air. The Slytherins stepped back hurriedly, watching the obsidian wall melt into liquid and congeal on the floor. It was disturbingly reminiscent of blood.

Slowly, it gathered itself back together to form two lifelike statues of pythons. Their tall and slender bodies spoke of sinuous muscles and hidden power, with scarlet eyes that glittered dangerously in the wandlight. They formed an arch, entwining at the top of what looked like a passageway, and they stood like dangerous sentinels of some dark secret.

Lily's eyes widened. Without a doubt, this was very Dark magic, and she shivered violently in horror. The snakes, they seemed so _real,_ and she could have sworn one of them hissed with fangs spread wide. A sneaky little hunch said that the snakes weren't mere statues. The three Slytherins, perhaps sensing the same thing, nervously glanced back, and Lily gasped loudly. No—no, it couldn't be—

Frozen, she watched the trio disappear through the archway, and she stared as the snakes melded together to form the wall once more, solid and impenetrable. Lily shut her door all the way once more, sinking to her knees in bewilderment. What had just happened? She feverishly ran through her mind how any of this could be possible.

Presently, she forced herself to acknowledge the single troubling thought that reigned above the rest. Lily hadn't clearly seen any of their faces, but when they had all, for that split second, looked back down the corridor, she recognized them. She saw Evan Rosier, and she was pretty sure that was Antaeus Avery walking through the wall. But that wasn't the worst of it.

The last thing Lily had seen was Severus' pale, frightened face.


End file.
